


Nobody Expects The Spanish Inquisition (To Be So Gay)

by WahlBuilder



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Blow Jobs, Hotel Sex, M/M, Making two-dimensional characters three-dimensional through the magic of porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 04:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10268543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: Slade Wilson and his new partner have a fun night in a motel.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, Victor is flirting with Slade like, all the frigging time.  
> Set at some time when Slade is de-aged.

They stumbled into a cheap motel room after nearly breaking the door, and Slade pressed Victor to it, and thrust his tongue into the laughing mouth, tasting cherry and tobacco, bitter and sweet.

But instead of being difficult like he always was, Victor slid his tongue over Slade’s in unhurried dance, turning it into a prelude to a slow lovemaking rather than a straight road to a quick fuck.

Breath hitched in Slade’s throat.

Victor’s mouth was warm and wet, and Slade promised to himself to make him moan and swallow his moans.

He broke the kiss and dropped his head to Victor’s shoulder, then nuzzled the collar of his white dress shirt aside and mouthed at his neck, and moved his hands down the hard, sinewy body to tug the shirt out of his pants.

He inhaled Victor’s scent—a bitter cologne, too sharp to go unnoticeable, and the cherry of _Captain Black_ Victor smoked.

“You like my scent?” There was a challenge in Victor’s silky voice, and for that Slade pressed one palm, fingers splayed, to Victor’s spine, and slid the other into his pants and squeezed his ass.

Victor’s gasp was a most satisfying sound.

Slade kneaded his buttock again, let Victor’s neck alone for the time being, and looked at him.

The too-bright light of the room danced in Victor’s half-lidded eyes—the eyes the colour of orichalcum, of those old coins of the Emperors. His eyes had specks of darker colour, like corrosion.

“Haven’t been with a man for a while, that’s all,” Slade said. The confession was easy: Slade was not ashamed to admit he liked men as well as women, and to admit that he had slept with men, too.

“Why not?” Victor’s hair was tousled—a good look on him, in contrast to his usual sleekness. Slade wanted to card his fingers through it, to touch the gray streaks, to grab and pull it—it was just the right length for that.

It took him a few seconds to remember he had been asked a question. “Didn’t trust anyone enough.” To stop Victor from asking any more questions Slade moved the hand in Victor’s pants to the cleft of his ass.

“Do you trust me, then?”

“No,” he growled, leaned forward and nipped at Victor’s lower lip. “Are we done talking?”

A hand squeezed his cock through the front of his jeans, and Slade groaned.

A chuckle sounded near his ear. “So easy to get you going, _boy_.”

Slade forgot how to breathe when the same hand rubbed his cock through the fabric. It was getting uncomfortable.

“Never... thought I’d be into older men,” Slade tried to jab, gathering his rapidly scattering thoughts. Mostly it was because he _was_  the older man himself, usually. _Had been_. None of his experience had vanished, of course, but his current body carried fewer scars.

The hand was working on his jeans now, and Slade hastened to do the same, moved one of his hands to the front of Victor’s pants and fumbled with the button, then tugged on the fly. “Come on, come on...” He realized it was his own voice.

Victor was silent at last, only heavy breaths ghosting over Slade’s face.

He was the first to wrestle with the pants, and, triumphant, he slid his hand into the heat and curled his fingers around the hard length. Slade’s mouth watered; he could almost feel the salty, musky taste of silky skin, the heaviness on his tongue...

Slender fingers closed on his cock, and Slade moaned into Victor’s shoulder, thrusting forward and nearly spraining his wrist that was in Victor’s pants.

The air was thick like honey.

“How do you want this to go, Slade?” whispered Victor.

Slade opened his eye and looked down between their bodies where their hands were trapped awkwardly and wonderfully. “Want to ride you.” He felt feverish, hungry, barely able to focus, like he hadn’t felt in years. Sex had become a way to release tension and to trade it for information and favours. There had been no anticipation, no rush of emotions, no aching need to feel the joy of sharing his body with another person, the joy of intimacy and trust.

There was now.

He wanted to give up control. Wanted to drink in all that again.

Just plain wanted to sink down on a hard cock.

“We should move to the bed.”

“Right, right.” Slade freed himself from the trap of Victor’s pants and staggered back, choking on a moan when the pressure of Victor’s palm left his own cock.

It was inelegant, hasty: they discarded their clothes and tried to help each other, and got in each other’s way, and laughed, kissing and biting, and falling on the bed.

“Condoms?”

Victor cursed and rolled from under Slade, reaching for their discarded clothing. Being in his own body alone was unbearable, and Slade moved with him, pressing himself to Victor’s back and licking a trail up his neck.

The bitterness of Victor’s cologne was thicker, and he could taste it on his tongue.

“Here we go.”

Slade raked his blunt nails over Victor’s stomach, and, hearing a hiss, he scooted back. “Lie down already.”

A few packets were thrust into his hands, but Slade was momentarily distracted by the roll of muscles and the movement of bones on Victor’s back as Victor crawled higher up the bed and turned onto his back. His cock stood proud and flushed in a nest of dark curls.

Slade had to force himself to look at the packets. Two condoms and one with lube. “Not enough.”

Victor let out a hearty chuckle, lying propped on his elbows. “We’ll see about that.” Then his face softened, and Slade had a moment of utter panic, until Victor said, “Come here and kiss me.”

Slade put the supplies on the bedside table, planted his knees on both sides of Victor’s hips, and leaned down to capture his bitter lips in a kiss.

He was growing fond of the taste of Victor’s mouth.

They both moaned when he rubbed their cocks together, then he focused enough and reached for the lube and a condom. He dropped the condom on Victor’s chest.

Victor raised an eyebrow.

In lieu of an answer Slade lifted his trembling hands, and again the look on Victor’s face softened.

Slade busied himself with opening the lube, trying to breathe though his chest was tight. He tore the packet and smeared some slick on his fingers, reached behind himself and pushed two fingers right in.

For a moment, the whole world disappeared behind the burn of intrusion. It wouldn’t be enough, but he would heal fast—and he wanted the burn. Missed it.

He opened his eye to find Victor looking at him, open hunger on his face and a hand moving on his cock. Slade removed his fingers with a hiss, squeezed more lube onto his palm, batted Victor’s hand away from his cock and slicked it, then moved forward.

One the perks of being de-aged was that he was less bulky than usual, and wouldn’t crush Victor with his weight, so he just lined Victor’s hard, hot, wonderful cock with his hole and lowered himself on it.

Victor’s broken groan sounded from a distance as Slade’s whole attention focused on the pain and the stretch. It was accompanied by a prickling sensation that meant that something was torn, but that sensation was already fading as Slade’s body repaired itself.

“Wilson, you’re crazy!"”

Slade looked at his lover and smirked, then clenched on the hard length. He was rewarded with another moan and Victor’s hand twisting the sheets. “You like me, _partner_.” All his focus went into those words, and then he leaned back on outstretched arms, changing the angle, closed his eye, and moved up slowly, savoring the friction.

Victor made a funny noise that sounded like a mewl.

He lowered himself on Victor’s cock again, then rocked up. Victor’s hands gripped his thighs, and Slade sighed, and took him deeper.

Soon he found a good rhythm, fast and hot, and Victor was panting underneath him and letting out those sweet mewls, and Slade’s body was relaxing into it, recalling past experiences, though Slade didn’t mind the pain at all.

His orgasm caught him off-guard, like a well-hidden mine on the road, and Slade stilled, his mind a clean slate of bliss.

He collapsed on Victor’s thighs, gasping and shuddering, and heard a chant of “Slade, Slade, Slade”.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, swallowing thickly, raised himself off Victor’s cock, crashed on his back on the bed, and pulled Victor on top of himself. He slid a hand between them and guided Victor into himself again. “C’mon, Vic, c’mon...”

Victor slammed into him, punching the air out of Slade’s lungs, and Slade arched off the bed, wrapped legs around Victor’s waist, and dug his heels into his ass, spurring him on.

Victor pulled out, then thrust again, picking up pace, and Slade relaxed, taking it in, enjoying the slide.

Victor was hovering over him, blocking the light of the lamp, eyes closed and brows furrowed, a gray lock stuck to his forehead, muscles flexing in his arms, and Slade reached up and rubbed a thumb between his eyebrows, smoothing the crease.

Victor halted and opened his eyes, but Slade rubbed a heel over his butt and smiled. “Go on, Vic, want to feel you come...” He dropped a hand to Victor’s chest and pinched one perky nipple.

Victor’s mouth fell open without a sound and his eyes fluttered closed again, he rocked into Slade a few more times and went still, taught as a string, face and chest flushed.

Slade felt a pang of regret that he was wearing a condom, but they could try everything else later.

He wrapped his arms around Victor when his partner fell on him, and massaged his shoulders, then kissed his damp temple. Victor was getting soft in him, their skin was glued to each other, Victor’s scent was overwhelming, bitter and heavy, and there was a pool come drying on Slade’s stomach, but his mind was in a pleasant haze, his body relaxed, and he didn’t want to move yet.

“You’re hard again,” Victor murmured somewhere under his chin.

Slade tensed. “I have a short refractory period. Is there a problem?” It had been with some of his previous lovers. They hadn’t wanted to know they were having a fuck with a freak.

“No. Just thinking we might need more supplies.”

Slade huffed, relaxing again, and carded his fingers through Victor’s hair just like he had wanted. “You’re just old, old man.”

“I’m younger than you are, Wilson.” Victor pulled out of him and sat up, and Slade reluctantly let go.

He stretched as Victor got rid of the condom, then pulled him back on the bed, kissing Victor’s shoulder, rutting on his thigh lazily, and gliding his palms over all of Victor’s scars. “You’re buying me a breakfast in the morning, Victor. Big one.” And Slade would make sure his partner had a proper breakfast, too.

Victor wedged a hand between them and rubbed the back of his palm over Slade’s cock. Slade shivered, closing his eye, lust coiling in his gut, letting the bitter scent of cologne and the heavy musk of sex fill his senses.

“What about morning sex?”

Slade thrust into the stroking hand without even looking at Victor. “Morning sex, then breakfast. And after that then I’m gonna have you again, Inquisitor.” He rolled onto his back, and was given a quick kiss before Victor moved lower down his body and smirked, swirling his tongue over the bone on Slade’s hip, wet and perfect. “You have a deal, partner.”

Slade didn’t have to continue the conversation after that when Victor swallowed his aching cock. He just leaned back and tangled his fingers in Victor’s hair, relaxed for the first time in months.


End file.
